Hatchet Man
by BiggestDickEver
Summary: When Bella's boss retires, the only thing standing between her and the position is the dick they've already hired for the job.


**Title** : Hatchet Man

 **Summary** : When Bella's boss retires, the only thing standing between her and the position is the dick they've already hired for the job.

 **Pairing** : Edward & Bella

 **Rating** : M

 **Disclaimer** : The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

 **Hatchet Man**

On a typical Monday morning, I arrive at work to find my boss clearing out her desk, placing personal items in a box.

"Morning, Shirley. What are you doing?" I ask, somewhat confused.

"I'm leaving."

"Leaving?"

"Retiring, Bella… off to London. I'm finally going to see the world."

"But…" Shirley and I have worked together for years, and she has never talked about travelling. The shock settles in as I realize she's intending to go right away. "I can't believe this is happening."

When she places her hand compassionately on my wrist, I see she's been crying. "I want to go quietly, without a big farewell." I shake my head, feeling my own eyes brim with tears. "And you'll be fine. I'm stepping aside for you youngsters to take over. I have faith in you, Bella Swan."

Emmett and Carlisle come in to help carry her things to her car. After a career spanning thirty years, she's only taking a few framed photos, her big vase, pink stationery items, and the puffy vest she always kept in her office.

She gets her wish, going quietly before most of the staff members arrive. We embrace and she promises to keep in touch. Carlisle chuckles, saying Esme will want to hear all the details, knowing it won't be long before she starts begging him to take an overseas vacation. When he thanks her sincerely for everything she's done, I break down.

Coming back inside, Carlisle is emotional, wiping his eyes. "The end of an era, Bella." When I nod, he asks, "Can you keep things going until we decide what we're doing with that position?"

"Of course I can." I'm numb, my mind wandering through twelve months of reports I've produced showing sales declining. We've all noticed the lack of customers coming into the showroom, so I feel Shirley spared me the whole story. Knowing Carlisle, he's given her a way to leave with her dignity intact.

I jump into the role of sales manager, surprised by her lack of proactivity. She must have lost enthusiasm while planning a trip around the world. While I start work on the things we can improve quickly, it becomes obvious we won't need an assistant sales manager while the business isn't doing so great. I do my best to keep Carlisle informed, but the monthly report shows another downturn in sales.

If we are going to survive, the new sales manager of Cullen Fine Furniture will have to make changes while keeping the core of the company true to its beginnings. Carlisle Cullen started with nothing in the eighties, building a reputation for delivering hand-made pieces of furniture that transcend generations. He survived in a market just discovering IKEA. The quality of the product has never been in question. We just need an injection of the twenty-first century.

With ideas for expanding our market share, I approach Carlisle's office to win him over with my strategy and hear his son, Emmett, arguing with someone over the phone. It only takes a minute of eavesdropping to work out they've already hired someone and the new person has somebody else in mind for the job as his assistant. Emmett is refusing to lay anyone off until he sees the full report.

 _The full report._

Of course, someone new will be looking at aspects of the business, familiarizing themselves with our current practices before recommending change. Unfortunately, one of those changes will likely be me walking out the door.

On Monday morning, I drag myself into work, knowing I'm meeting my new boss, Edward Masen, who will begin the job of saving Cullen Fine Furniture. As I stare out the window of a crowded Seattle train, I remember how happy I've been working there.

Emmett Cullen hired me straight out of college, saying he felt I would fit in with their culture, and now he's about to marry my best friend and roommate, Rose. We keep it businesslike at work, but outside, he's like a brother to me.

I never planned to stay so long in my first job, but the people and the flexibility of the place have kept me here for three years now. My title of assistant sales manager has never adequately described the work I do—something I like—and I still find it easy to adhere to our philosophy of making the customer our highest priority.

I don't want to lose this job, but do I have any power to fight? I guess I'm about to find out.

All day, I'm expecting Carlisle to bring Edward Masen around to introduce us. With nothing to lose, I've prepared myself to expound on my strategy for change, particularly because I don't want him treating me as his personal assistant.

When I don't see him on the second day either, Emmett explains he's been everywhere, asking questions—everywhere but with me. Jess, the office assistant, says they've been watching him walk in and out of Carlisle's office. He's so good looking, they fan themselves when he goes past.

I don't care what he looks like when I'm feeling abandoned, but the next morning, he's already in his office when I arrive.

"Miss Swan?" he calls out as soon as I drop my handbag at my desk. "Could you come in here please?"

It's so formal, I feel like I should be responding with a "Yes, Sir"—but I go in silently, taking my phone in case he has tasks for me. I definitely do not want to risk forgetting something since I'm feeling expendable and obviously at the bottom of the heap as far as he's concerned.

Wearing an expensive-looking dress shirt and tie, he ignores my offer of a handshake and motions for me to sit down on the other side of his desk. "You can call me Mr. Masen," he announces, then launches into a long list of things he wants me to do, expecting a report breaking down purchases, showing patterns of what items people buy and when—six months of data filtered by days of the week! What items people buy? They order custom-made furniture! Does it really matter if we sell more round coffee tables on Wednesdays than Fridays? By product by day—the report will be thousands of pages long!

Watching me enter everything in front of him, he enquires, "You're taking notes on your phone?"

The intonation is neutral, as if he's only making an observation, but I'm very sensitive at the moment, and I glare at him slightly. "I can email them to you if you want to check I've understood everything."

"That won't be necessary," he responds, his tone as even as before.

Leah buzzes my desk, asking for help in the showroom. At Cullen Fine Furniture, an influx of customers means I drop everything and head down to help. The customer always comes first.

"Would you please excuse me?" I ask.

"I beg your pardon?"

"They need my help," I answer and stand.

"Who are _they_ and where are you going?" he demands as I'm walking out, following

me. "This is not very productive."

"We have customers. I'm needed in the showroom." Turning to face him, I see his eyebrows raised in complete surprise. Carlisle assured me he would inform him this is part of my job.

His eyes rake over me. "And you're going down there dressed like that?"

I look down to take in my shirt and slacks, seeing nothing wrong with what I'm wearing.

"Yes… I am."

"Alright," he responds, without any sign of explaining, and walks into his office, leaving my confidence slightly battered.

I've been speaking to an older couple for a while, drawing their attention to the grain in our locally grown timber that creates a unique piece of furniture every time. I've already witnessed a certain look passing between them, imagining how the furniture would look in their home, when Mr. Masen joins us with his suit jacket buttoned, looking like a million dollars.

"Would you like to see the artist at work?" he offers with a heart-stopping smile.

The man and woman glance at each other and nod, completely forgetting about me. We don't take customers into the workshop unless Carlisle specifically requests it. I've never known an impromptu visit before, but I follow along to see what Mr. Masen thinks he can achieve.

The smell of the workshop is always incredible. With shavings on the floor and furniture nowhere near finished, this is the part of the business where Carlisle and his team work their magic.

"Thank you, Miss Swan," he says, dismissively. I smile sweetly and leave, lingering outside long enough to hear him run through the process as if he's been here for years. He even knows more than I do about the chairs—rattling off dimensions chosen to create maximum comfort with minimal impact on floor space. With no new customers in the showroom, I climb the stairs, fuming he would dare to rob me of the sale and the commission.

Throwing myself in my chair, I know I should make a start on the stupid report, but I want to know what he judges as wrong with my outfit. Without a lot of money to spend on his kind of expensive clothes, I think I do okay making sure I look professional every goddamn day. I consider asking him to expand, but I doubt he'd even realize his answer would insult me.

It's only taken me an hour to recognize the man as a dick.

When he appears at the top of the stairs, he's preoccupied, tapping something into

his phone. "We'll continue tomorrow morning, Miss Swan. I have meetings now."

"Great," I mutter to myself. I'd love to ask if he made the sale, but I won't give him the satisfaction.

"What time do you start?" he asks without looking up.

"Eight."

"Alright," he responds in that detached manner I already find exasperating.

I bury myself in a spreadsheet, checking and re-checking my figures. There _are_ patterns appearing when I look at total sales daily, important to staffing the showroom. Thursday is clearly our biggest day and Sunday is a close second. Shirley and I worked alternate weekends, but this shows we should have both worked Thursday nights.

It's three in the afternoon when Angela places a coffee down in front of me.

"Have you had lunch?" she asks.

"Not yet," I answer. "I've been caught up in this damn report. Thanks for the coffee, Ang."

Jess breezes in, stopping at my desk. "What's Mr. Masen like?"

"Very different to Shirley, obviously. I'm going to be busy."

"He's good to look at, isn't he?" She looks excited but I just shrug, caring little for his exterior. "You haven't noticed yet, have you?" she asks with a smirk, glancing at Angela who shakes her head.

"Jess… don't."

"Noticed what?" I'm oblivious.

"Your new boss. He's well endowed, like _really_ well endowed."

"Honestly, I couldn't care less. I already know he's a dick so the size of his dick doesn't matter."

"Well, wait until you see the package before passing judgement. It's… impressive," she adds with a giggle.

"Haven't you got anything better to do?" I growl at her.

"I just wondered if he's nice, because… well… I'd go there."

"He's not nice to me, Jess. In fact, I think he stole a sale from me this morning."

Both of their mouths fall open. It's something we do not do at Cullen Fine Furniture.

"Did he close the sale?" Jess asks.

"Ugh." I'm over this already. I have to finish the report if I'm going home tonight.

"That _is_ a dick move, Bella." Angela rubs my shoulder. "...but don't you take it to heart. Maybe all men with big dicks are like that and he can't help it."

"I'd still like a crack at that monster," Jess adds with a grin.

"Back to your desk!" Angela snarls, glaring at her, and she walks away, swinging her hips and humming.

Letting out a big breath of air, I need to talk to someone who cares. "I think my days here are numbered, Ang."

"No. I don't believe that."

I shake my head slowly. "He's going to find out pretty quickly we don't need the two of us."

"Carlisle won't keep him here if he doesn't fit the culture, so start showing everyone how talented you are and the job will be yours. I know it can't have been easy to shine working under someone like Shirley. She was very resistant to change."

"I know, but I still let it happen. I should have spoken to Carlisle a long time ago and we wouldn't be in this situation."

With a squeeze of my hand she says, "Bella, I know you'll make this happen. You're smart and educated. More importantly, you care about this company. You, lady, are the one for the job. Masen is just passing through."

Looking into her eyes, I'm grateful to have someone like Angela who always offers wisdom and encouragement. Sometimes, I'd swear she's much older than her thirty-five years.

I don't have to answer. She just lets my hand go with the kindest smile and then leaves.

With everything laid out on Mr. Masen's desk and a giant spreadsheet accompanying my summary in his inbox, Emmett calls at my workstation.

"Come on, I'll drive you home," he offers with a gentle smile.

"Thank you. Are you coming for dinner?"

"I hope so. I don't feel like going home to my own cooking."

I chuckle. "It won't be long now. Rose is a great cook."

"I'm counting the days."

As we reach his SUV, I make the first of my suggestions. "You know we really should have advertising on the company vehicles."

"Masen's already mentioned that."

 _Of course he has._ "Do you want me to get quotes?"

"Just leave it to him at the moment. He wants to make an overall presentation when he's ready."

I hide my long exhale. Mr. Masen will no doubt come up with a much more in-depth plan than I could put together. Any recommendations I have will shrivel and die in the glare of his blinding light. It doesn't matter—I'll keep making them until I come up with something he hasn't thought of. After the way he's treated me today, I'll fist pump if I show him up, even if it's just once.

"How has he been with you?"

I consider exposing his conduct in the showroom, but Carlisle will soon see him for what he is. Someone like Edward Masen will never fit in here and I'm now determined to have him recommend me for the job as _he_ walks out the door.

"I've hardly seen him, Emmett. He gave me a whole lot of work and then left. I will say he's overbearing."

"Oh well, give him time, he seems to know what he's doing."

When a text arrives from the man himself, I have to read it a couple of times to believe he had the gall to send it:

" _How about a nice dress tomorrow and some heels? I don't expect you to stay in them all day, of course. You might add a little mascara."_

I don't know what he's playing at, disparaging the way I dress, but as far as I'm concerned, he's just thrown down the gauntlet, and declared himself to be a dick of the highest caliber. I have quite a few nice dresses in my closet, and I'm ready to fight.

* * *

Arriving early in my nice dress, flat shoes, and heels in a bag I stash under my desk, I'm wearing mascara, eye shadow, and blood red lipstick. I'm confident I've left nothing for him to criticize.

"Miss Swan, can we get started? We still have to complete what we... didn't finish…"

His words fade away as he stands in his doorway and takes in my outfit. "...yesterday."

I stand up straight. "Is this better, more up to your standard?"

With a slight nod, he answers, "Uh… yes, it's better. What you were wearing before won't distinguish you when you need to make yourself memorable." I lift my jaw at his sexist comment and wait while he looks me over again. "This is expensive furniture and the customer will visit several stores before making a decision. They might associate the beautiful brunette from Cullen's with a pleasurable experience and come back. Do you understand?"

For a second, I'm stuck on the word, "beautiful," but he has to be using it in a generic sense. He can't actually mean everything that comes out of his mouth.

"I understand." I'm ready with my phone when he beckons me into his office.

Rolling up his sleeves as I sit down, he turns his monitor around to face me. Then he leans against the desk with his crotch right in front, and Jess wasn't kidding. What's there _is_ impressive.

"Who updates the website, Miss Swan?"

Although I've been ready for this question for days, I can't concentrate on the screen, compelled to evaluate what makes up a bulge like that.

 _It has to be the type of underwear he's wearing, stuffing his junk together with nowhere to go but out. Surely, it can't be comfortable or healthy. Is his dick long and doubled over, or just fat, or both? What part do his balls play in the lump?_

"Miss Swan?" He points to his left. "The monitor is over here."

Oh, God. "Sorry?" I blush, sneaking a last glimpse of the bulge.

"The website."

"We do… I mean, I do. My previous boss didn't want to spend any time or money on web advertising. She always maintained we can't sell custom-made furniture with an online shopping cart."

He sighs. "This looks like something from ten years ago."

Without giving him a chance to stop me, I grab his keyboard and mouse, typing the URL of my test page. "Let me show you my idea." The top of the screen fills with a slideshow of images I've stolen to illustrate the concept. "We need our own photos, but I want to show a connection between the forest, the furniture and the lifestyle that comes with ownership. I see close-ups—the trunk of a tree, a hand shaving a chair, a family enjoying a meal at home. It doesn't specifically show what we sell; it's more about emotion."

"Alright." He runs a hand through his hair, calmly looking at the monitor.

"I took a course on web design and I've wanted to create something myself since I first started."

"But you didn't."

I shake my head, embarrassed. "I've done two forms so far that email back to me: one to make an inquiry or an appointment to come in, and another to register details for our warranty. The current ISP gives us reports on hits and… well, the results are not great."

"I would imagine they're abysmal." He takes the mouse, dragging the window in and out to view how the page looks on a tablet or cell phone. "I like it, but the color palette is off. It needs colors from the workshop and, to some extent, the forest, if that works. Can you give me a two-column section directly under the carousel of images?"

I'm so delighted he approves, I could hug him. "Now?"

"No, not now, Miss Swan. I have important things for you to do."

Just like that, he crushes the enthusiasm I felt for a second when he said, "I like it." I wasn't expecting gushing compliments from someone like Mr. Masen, but he could have at least given me a go-ahead and plan to develop the site further. We should be talking about user experience, appropriate metatags, stylesheets and the information we want to capture. Instead, he's made it clear my little project is not on his list of important matters, and leaves me not knowing where it stands.

 _He's such a dick, I don't know why I bother._

Without commenting on anything I did for him yesterday, he gives me enough work to keep me busy for days. He wants a list of possible retailers to distribute our product. Little does he know, I already have it, uploaded to my unimportant website a week ago. I'll send him the link as I leave for the day.

Back at my desk, I'm prioritizing when he sings out, requesting a list of staff rostered on every day for the past six months.

"I'm not sure who can supply that!"

He appears at the doorway. "Ask Emmett."

I can't help myself. "You don't call him Mr. Cullen?"

"No, Miss Swan… That would cause confusion."

 _Of course it would. How silly of me._

"Well, are you going to ask him? It may take some time to compile."

Angrier than I've felt in a long time, I narrow my eyes and run them down his body, just as he's done to me, stopping at his oversized crotch, burning holes there like laser beams. I would tell him to go ask Emmett himself if I didn't want his job.

When I look into his eyes, he's flustered, taking a single step back, so I tackle the thing I've been stewing over since yesterday.

"Just for my information, Mr. Masen, did you end up closing with that couple you took into the workshop yesterday?"

"They bought a dining table and six chairs, a three-seater couch and two singles." Holy hell. His very first sale, the one that should have been mine, must have been well over ten thousand dollars. I snort, walking away before I kick him in the junk.

I almost go back when I hear a quiet chuckle behind me, but I've never heard his laugh, so I can't be sure it didn't come from the showroom.

* * *

Picking up my plate from the table, I sigh as I take it to the kitchen to rinse. I've hardly spoken since I came home late, and now Rose is watching me.

"Are you going to talk to me?" she asks.

"I don't know if I can do this. It's only been a few days and I'm exhausted."

"Let's tell Em if the new guy is pushing you too far."

"It's not really the work. I can do that okay. He just… he wants everything right away, and I'm not sure what he does with the information I'm giving him. Today, I had to ask Emmett urgently for a report on who works when. Then Leah comes upstairs and wants me to be honest and tell her if she's losing her job. They all think I know what's going on, and I don't."

"He shouldn't put you in that position."

"Everyone's frightened. I'm frightened of what he's going to deliver in his report. Aren't you scared for the future of the company?"

"Not really. From what Emmett says, Edward has been very positive and come up with good ideas for them to consider."

I snort. "Edward? I can't think of him as Edward. I have to call him Mr. Masen and I'm Miss Swan. Can you believe he requested, by text I might add, that I wear a nice dress and heels when I go into the showroom? He actually said I should use mascara!"

She laughs at me. "It sounds like he's playing with you. What a dick."

"That's exactly what he is, Rose. He's the biggest dick I ever met. When he requested a list of potential retailers, what I handed him took a solid week of research to compile. I know he gets his emails on his phone and any normal person would have been highly impressed, but he hasn't even replied. Not once has he thanked me for anything."

"Have you tried schmoozing him a little?"

I just shake my head. "I wouldn't know where to start."

"He could have things going on in his personal life that are making him irritable. How old is he, Bella? Is he married?"

"I don't know anything about him."

"Well… maybe he'll loosen up next week and you'll see a different side of him."

 _I don't want to see a different side of him. I want everyone to hate him so he leaves and I take over his job. Currently, it's my word against his, so to take down this dick, I'm going to need evidence I can present to Carlisle. Writing it down will help me vent and see if he actually is as bad as I think. So, what do I already have?_

 _ **Refusing to shake my hand at our first meeting—that has to get a mention: I award one dick point.**_

 _ **Sexist comments about the way I dress: another one.**_

 _ **Taking over my sale in the showroom and dismissing me—unforgivable: two points.**_

 _ **Disregarding the effort I put into the website: one dick point.**_

 _ **Total dick points so far: 5, and it's only the first week.**_

 _I am going to enjoy this!_

* * *

I'm typing on my phone when Mr. Masen makes a comment out of the blue.

"Is this evening attire you are wearing?"

I look up and glare at him. "It's a dress. Didn't you specifically request I wear dresses?"

"Maybe I should have been _more_ specific."

 _ **Who does he think he is bringing this up again? Total dick points: 6**_

Standing, I know I must maintain control before I hit him across the face with my phone. "Are we done?"

His eyes roll down over me. "Yes, we're done. Just…"

"Just what?" I question.

For once, he backs down and I walk out of his office, hearing him groan.

* * *

After that, he doesn't tell me where he's going or what he's doing, only dropping in to give me work, and then communicating by email. What I'm doing is not related to sales. He's using me as his go-between to report on other areas of the company.

 _When are we going to look at margins, a new advertising budget, discuss the retail distribution I gave him? Dare I even mention revisiting the website?_

While I'm down in the showroom with aching feet from standing around in heels, I notice Leah is still in the same outfits she always wears. She tells me he hasn't spoken to her about her apparel and I'm angry again, questioning why he's targeted me. Then she's worried he doesn't care how she looks because he's going to fire her.

"You know that's not true, Leah. You are the top salesperson in the company, so why would you of all people be on the chopping block? That's crazy."

"It's all about the hours I work, Bella. He wants someone here longer than nine to three on weekdays. I do my hours! I work Thursday nights as well as Sundays! Carlisle knows I can't do anymore!"

I realize I've caused unnecessary turmoil and it takes me a while to settle her down. From now on, I vow to be more careful with what I say, but on Monday, I am going to challenge him. I'm sick of doing all the work and being left in the dark.

* * *

It's before eight when I drop my bag at my desk. I'm hanging my coat when he comes up behind me, mug of coffee in hand. The mug doesn't look familiar, so I assume he's brought one from home.

"Great, you're in early. Can we start?"

I stare at his coffee, hoping he'll have the decency to give me a few minutes, and consider I might need something to get _my_ brain cells working.

"Something wrong?"

 _ **Of course, he's oblivious and only focused on himself. Total dick points: 7**_

I hold back a snort, remembering the day I found a perfect gift for this man. Rose and I were in the housewares department of Macy's when I came across a mug with a handle in the shape of a D and the letters ICK printed on the side. I'll be delighted to go back and buy it for him when he leaves.

"Good morning would be nice." I smile, making sure he can tell it's forced.

"Alright. Good morning, Miss Swan. Did you have a pleasant weekend?"

 _ **He cannot be this insensitive. Total dick points: 8**_

"I worked all weekend in the showroom. How was yours?"

"Busy. Now can we start?"

There's obviously no point in trying to schmooze a dick who can't even return a smile. Beaten, I take my phone and follow him into his office, where he makes me wait while he takes off his jacket, removing his phone, and pens, lining them up before _he's_ ready to start.

 _ **Grrr. Total dick points: 9**_

With nothing else to do, my eyes land on his sizeable crotch, watching its shape change with each twist and turn. I find its individual components mysterious and intriguing, especially since Jessica came around and told me she's started calling him "The Lunch."

With the mug in his hand, he paces in front of me, barking out instructions. I keep glancing up each time the bulge passes by, entering only a word here and there to remind me what I'm supposed to do when I get back to my desk.

The request for a listing of Seattle upholsterers takes my attention from what's inside his pants, and I sigh in frustration. "Mr. Masen, why aren't we focusing on sales? Isn't it Carlisle's domain to deal with the upholstery company? Why would we be involved?"

"Carlisle is busy making furniture."

"But…"

"Are you going to enter it on your phone?"

Fuming, I tap on the screen, certain I'm missing something. It's becoming apparent that we've barely touched on sales and marketing issues. He's never asked a question about our selling methodology or profit margins, how we overcome customer objections, or the need for a social media campaign that targets the middle-aged buyer. Not that Shirley did either, but he just doesn't talk the talk.

Remembering I swore to challenge him, I glance at his junk one last time and then

into his eyes. "Are you a qualified sales manager or a hatchet man?"

First, he scoffs at my suggestion, then raises his eyebrows as if I'm being impertinent. "You do know that sales and marketing are just parts of the sale?"

"Of course I do."

"And you believe a company of this size warrants a sales department?"

 _Now he's got me. A manager? Yes. A department? No._ "I recognize we don't need two people."

"Then don't give me reasons to highlight your expendability."

 _ **So, the dick thinks he can scare me. Total Dick Points: 10**_

"What reasons?"

"You've been trying to intimidate me. I may even have grounds for sexual harassment."

The air escapes from my lungs. "I… I don't understand."

"Yes, you do. Ever since I mentioned your attire in the showroom, you've gone out of your way to dress inappropriately. I said memorable, remember, not provocative. I know what you're doing."

"What _am_ I doing?" I look down at my dress and this one _is_ figure hugging, I suppose, but I have never dressed to be provocative.

"You're attempting to provoke me into a moment of weakness, ogling your tits, giving Carlisle grounds to dismiss me. You can stop because it's not going happen."

I can't find the words to adequately express the emotions bubbling inside me. "You're wrong."

"Do you think I don't notice when you stare at me... below my belt?" I cannot speak. I'm so embarrassed I could die. "You and Miss Stanley are treading on very shaky ground."

In a moment of stupid and ill-placed courage, I defend myself. "Actually, Mr. Masen, you're the one being provocative. How do you expect us to react when it looks like you have something stuffed down the front of your pants?"

Now he's the one who is shocked. Then he snorts. "Why would I do that?"

The contents of the bulge strain against his pants as he runs his fingers through his hair. _God, I'm still looking at it!_

"I don't know… to make yourself more _memorable_?" I love having the chance to use that word back at him.

He chuckles, and I have to admit he does have a great laugh. It's a pity he's such a dick. Placing his hands on the arms of my chair, he locks eyes with me. Up close, they are bottomless pools of green.

"Would you like to find out if it's real?"

"Definitely not," I answer, keeping my eyes fixed on his.

"Do you think I can't get you wet enough to take all of me? Because I can."

I don't know which is worse—his words or the vision he's putting in my head.

"Do you think a big dick will hurt, or give you less pleasure? I can assure you that won't be the case."

"Stop it." My heart is pounding with fear as I push on his arm so I can escape, but he keeps it in place.

"Now we know where we stand, I expect you to stop playing foolish games and get on with your work. From now on, you don't question my methods or my qualifications. Understand?"

"Perfectly." I gulp. "Can I go now?"

He lifts his arms and I'm ready to bolt when he answers, "No, you can't go. We're not finished yet. Get your phone ready."

 _ **That just earned him another point. Total dick points: 11**_

As if nothing happened, he gives me a range of tasks that I make sure to record carefully while I'm in this mess of raw emotion. I thought I had the upper hand until now, but he just scared me enough to make me realize how close I am to losing this job and how hard I'll have to fight to survive him.

He stands and puts on his jacket, taking a slip of paper and cash from a pocket, and places it on the desk in front of me. It bears an address in Queen Anne and the name Elizabeth Masen. In quotation marks, he's written, "Happy Birthday, Lizzie Lou. Love, Anthony xox." I look up to question what he's given me.

"Flowers," he says. "Blue and white. Choose them yourself."

"Anthony?"

"Lizzie calls me Anthony."

This is too much. After all the exemplary work I've done for him, he expects me to

buy flowers for his wife's birthday.

 _ **I am not his PA and I resent him using me as one. Total dick points: 12**_

"Why don't _you_ choose them yourself?" I ask, filled with a courage only he brings out in me. "I have enough to do already."

He blinks several times. I don't think I've seen him do that before. "It won't take you long and I have to go out."

I respond with a calm that surprises me. "Then it will be easier for you, since you're already out."

He narrows his eyes for a second before he replies. "Alright." Taking the cash and the note, he deposits them back in his pocket. After a quick glance, he walks out, leaving me wondering if I've just signed my death warrant, but the words he used have to work both ways. No matter what happens from here, we both know where we stand.

I snap at Jessica when she comes around to gossip, telling her I'm too busy to talk. I can't warn her to lay off Mr. Masen without disclosing the conversation that took place this morning. It's too dangerous to raise, even with Rose, who might feel like she has to say something to Emmett. Blowing this up will surely come back on me.

For the rest of the week, I try to be agreeable—taking my instructions and questioning nothing—making sure I complete my work quickly and perfectly. Neither of us mentions our little altercation. Mr. Masen is even more formal than usual but he now makes a point of saying, "Good morning." He even smiles when I hand him completed work.

At our place on Saturday night, Emmett announces that Edward has completed his study of the company and is ready to present the report. He's animated and positive while I drink way too much wine and don't surface until lunchtime on Sunday.

When I arrive at work, Mr. Masen's car is missing. I quickly check Carlisle's office to see three empty cups of coffee on his desk and realize it's already happened. Us lowly workers don't get the benefit of seeing the presentation.

I drag myself to my desk, finding an envelope marked "Miss Swan". Inside is a copy of his report with a handwritten note that says, "I thank you for your invaluable contribution to this report. I trust you not to share it with anyone else." I run my finger over the flourish of his signature, presuming I won't see him again.

The first page is a summary of his goals and the outcomes contained in the report. The next one shows a series of screenshots from my website, giving me no credit for its design. He hasn't made any changes, except for the two-column area where he's inserted the words "Fine Furniture" in one and "Custom-Made" in the other.

He recommends we hire a film company to capture the entire process from selecting the right piece of wood through to the creation of a unique piece of furniture. The videos and stills will become the basis for an advertising campaign, re-launching the

company name.

What follows is the plan for a new range to be sold in five of the stores on the list I gave him. He's added details of the contacts he's made who have agreed to see the furniture. The custom side of the business will continue as Cullen Custom Furniture. He recommends reducing the amount of furniture displayed in the showroom, and opening up an area of the workshop where customers can come in without having to wear protective gear.

The next pages open out, showing plans for two new offices downstairs: one for Carlisle and one marked Sales Manager. Upstairs, most of the offices are gone, replaced by a showroom where the customers can sit down in comfort and see the upholstery fabrics instead of just viewing the sample books we currently have.

Another big change is buying a small upholstery business and moving it on site.

He's had mockups done for advertising on the company vehicles. He's found a local agency that is ready to take over development of the website and his outline for the new advertising campaign.

At this point, the only reason I'm not freaking out is that office downstairs could still be mine.

The following page is a flowchart showing the new structure. There's no change in the number of workshop staff, but Assistant Sales Manager is gone. Jessica's position as Office Assistant is also absent. No surprises there, really. She never seemed very busy.

There's an in-depth report on his observations of Leah, stating she may be the best face-to-face salesperson he's ever witnessed. He actually writes the company must do everything it can to keep her. He's either spoken to her or Carlisle about her situation because he knows she needs to leave early to take a train and a bus to pick up her children from their after school programs.

He wants her to sign a contract and extend her hours during the week. As compensation, she takes over the role of Sales Manager, receiving an increased salary, a company vehicle and gas card. It will be her responsibility to hire two new sales assistants and train them to give her flexibility and time with her family. He wants Carlisle to consider the idea of her initiating the sale in the home, then bringing the customer in and giving them the VIP treatment.

While I know I'm reading the end of my career at Cullen's, what he is proposing is innovative, and I cannot deny it makes good sense. Leah is an incredible attribute for the company and I know she would jump at this opportunity.

The last section of the report is today's dismal profit and loss statement, with projections out to twelve months and two years behind it. Mr. Masen predicts a big future for the business.

But I won't be part of it.

With no one around and nothing to do, I look through my drawers, seeing how little I will take with me. Was it only a month ago that Shirley left? Everything changed when Mr. Masen arrived, and I already feel the loss of his energy. Although I still think of him as a dick, he gave me a sense of purpose and the exhausting roller-coaster ride that is ending with an outcome I understand.

They might not know he left me a copy of the report, so I sneak out while I can, sending a text to Emmett saying I won't be in because I'm not feeling well.

I really _don't_ feel well, contemplating the scene where they tell me they're letting me go. I wonder who will do it—Carlisle or Emmett—and how soon it will take place. From the figures I saw in the report, Carlisle is losing money every day, so they won't delay the restructure.

I'll need my big girl panties for this one if I'm going to leave without turning into a blubbering mess. These two kind and caring men have become like family and I'm going to miss them dearly. Rose and Emmett's wedding won't be quite so joyous now.

All day, I sleep, check out jobs online, stare at daytime television, and sleep some more. It's no surprise when I wake up on the couch in a darkened apartment and hear knocking on the door. Rose goes to her personal trainer after work Mondays and Thursdays to maintain her wedding-dress size, and sometimes she has so much gear, she can't juggle the keys.

"I'm coming!" I call out, turning lights on as I rub the sleep from my eyes.

I open the door and groan. It cannot be _him_ , not tonight when I'm at my lowest. His hair looks disheveled, he's undone his top buttons and pulled his tie to the side. He smells of alcohol.

"Pajamas," he notes with a grin that soon turns into a frown. "Did I make you sick?" I just shrug, having nothing to say to him really.

"What do you want, hatchet man?"

"I brought soup... Chinese soup… to make you feel better."

 _ **I guess I should deduct a point here. Total dick points: 11**_

"I'm not hungry."

"I'm sorry, Bella." He does look genuinely sorry but I'm not ready to accept an apology yet.

"Oh, so now it's Bella, after all the bullshit is over."

"I couldn't tell you what was happening."

"But you didn't need to act like such a dick."

"Are you going to let me in so I can explain?"

Not caring one way or another, I just look at him.

"Please?"

When I move back, he enters and I sit on a stool. I'm not entertaining him. He opens and closes kitchen cupboards, finding two bowls and tipping the contents of the soup into them. Opening the cutlery drawer, he hands me a spoon.

"Sorry it's not piping hot."

"The microwave's there." I point with a finger, watching him do something for me for once. Taking a sip, I find a surprisingly delicious soup with just the right amount of spice.

"Do you want yours heated up?" he asks.

"No." I look up and he's staring. "It's good… thanks."

He joins me on the other stool and watches me eat, making this more uncomfortable than it already is.

"Where does your wife think you are right now? Are you supposed to be working?"

"I'm not married."

 _He's not married?_

"Then who is Lizzie?"

"My mother."

"You call your mother Lizzie Lou?"

He laughs. "I started when I was fifteen and thought a nickname was more grown up than calling her Mom." This admission might be the most ordinary thing he's ever said to me. "At home, she calls me Anthony."

"Why?"

"Because Dad is Edward and my mother hates the name Eddy. Anthony is my middle name."

I go back to my soup. It's obvious he's trying to be normal, sharing family anecdotes, but at this point, he's still Mr. Masen to me. I'm not going to be friendly with the dick who wiped my position from his flowchart.

He breathes out a sigh. "You know you were overqualified for that job."

"I don't think everything has to revolve around education and qualifications. I liked working at Cullen's because of the people, and I admire Carlisle for his kind nature as much as his talent."

"He certainly has talent. I never take on a job unless the product or service is impeccable. The rest of the business I can fix."

"So, this is what you do. You _are_ a hatchet man."

"I hate that term, but yes. I go into companies and find opportunities, make recommendations, restructure. You cannot imagine how satisfying it is to see a struggling enterprise find its way back to success."

"But people have to lose their jobs in the process."

"Sometimes..." He nods, then takes a sip. "...but those people were never meant to stay. I just hasten their exit."

"It seems cold, inhuman almost. I feel so lost at the moment. I have no idea what I am going to do now."

"You're going to come and work with me." One side of his mouth turns up in a know-it-all smile.

I scoff. "You must think I'm a masochist."

He chuckles and then looks at me seriously. "I can't do the work unless I put up a barrier between me and the staff. Being a dick, as you've labelled me, helps me get the job done. Staying in character avoids people trying to get close and prying into what I'm doing. It gives me a lot of freedom."

"It must be impossible to make friends at work when everyone either fears or despises you. It sounds very lonely."

"Carlisle and Emmett think I'm okay. I make lots of friends, just not down at… your level." I stand to take the bowls and he puts his hand out to stop me. "Sorry… I didn't mean that how it sounded."

 _ **He should get a point for this, but he did apologize, so no change. Total dick points: 11**_

"No, I get it and I wouldn't work as your slave if you paid me a million dollars."

"My slave?" he asks with a quizzical smile.

"Yes, that's how it felt."

"You're the slave driver, Bella. Christ, I had to work every night to keep up with you. In three weeks, we've achieved something that normally takes two months. You'll have to pace yourself or I'll have a heart attack."

 _ **Really? Keeping up with ME? I'll take a point off for that. Total dick points: 10**_

"I said I'm not going to work for you," I say calmly, taking the bowls to the kitchen. "Thank you for the soup, but I think it's time you left."

"Look, come and meet Alice, my sister…" The door opens and Emmett and Rose stumble in, laughing.

"Edward!" Emmett surrounds Mr. Masen with his arm.

"We've been celebrating… up at Cullen Manor." Rose uses air quotes to embellish her words, then puts out her hand. "If you're Edward Masen, it's nice to meet you."

"I was just inviting Bella to dinner to meet my sister. My treat. Would you like to join us?"

They look at each other and Emmett answers, "Sure. When?"

"How about Friday night? I'll make reservations at Scout."

Now everyone turns to me. Maybe Rose doesn't know I've just lost my job. They've railroaded me and I can't come up with a quick response.

"Okay."

Mr. Masen's smile is suddenly dazzling. The dick just loves to win.

* * *

"Are you feeling any better?" Jess asks the next morning. It's hard to act like everything is normal, not knowing when they're going to call us in. "You don't look very well."

"I'm okay..."

"Good morning, Miss Swan. Miss Stanley, can I help you with something?" Jess shakes her head and scuttles away while I stare at my boss. I did not expect to see Mr. Masen in here again. "Can we get started?"

When I go in, he closes the door and I glance at it nervously. "You're closing the door?"

"No one will question it. There will be a few closed doors around here today. They've already spoken to Leah, so once they finalize the severance packages, we'll be next."

"We?"

"I'm being laid off as well. There are fewer questions if they let me go as a regular employee. You want to commiserate with me later or shall we celebrate? Have you given my job offer any more thought?"

I have thought about it. For hours, I lay awake, going over the employment ads I've seen and dreading the interviews. I'll have to lie through my teeth when I'm three years out of college with a résumé that makes me look lazy. Rose has had two promotions while I've stayed in my comfortable job.

The last three weeks may have been exhausting and frustrating, but I've never been more proud of the work I've produced. While I may have to start at the bottom again, I now know I haven't lost all my skills.

"I'm pretty sure I said no."

"Ah... so it's commiseration then… for now. Where shall we go? There's a fantastic bar near when I live."

Before I can tell him I don't feel like going anywhere, my phone rings. "Yes, Carlisle?"

"Can you come to my office, Bella?"

"Of course. I'll be right in." I sigh and look into Mr. Masen's green eyes. They are strikingly beautiful when they're full of compassion. "I'm up."

Emmett closes the door behind me and asks me to sit down. Carlisle looks even worse than he did when Shirley left. I have to put him out of his misery.

"I've seen the report and I understand why I have to go. It will be good for me, really."

"I agree. One door closes and another opens. While we are going to miss you, Bella, this is a great opportunity for you."

I shake my head, not sure what he means. "What opportunity?"

"Working with Edward. I thought he'd already made you an offer."

"Oh, he has, but I'm not sure I can work for him." They look at each other in surprise.

Then Carlisle looks down. "I thought you'd accept when you've worked together so brilliantly. Now I feel terrible. The severance package is not great; just two weeks for each year you've been with us."

Six weeks' pay. It isn't great but I think it's pretty standard. That's all my friend,

Tyler, received when he was laid off this year, and he got another job.

"I wish I could offer you more."

"I understand, Carlisle. In many ways, I feel responsible for not coming to you about Shirley."

"Oh, I think we all knew about Shirley, but she was here the day we opened. It was Edward who made me see the harsh reality."

I glance at Emmett, realizing Mr. Masen must have been involved earlier than I thought. Shirley had to go so he could assume her position, and Emmett couldn't tell me a thing. When Carlisle hands me a sheet of paper, detailing my final pay, I start to get teary, knowing it's over.

The end of my era at Cullen Fine Furniture.

When I stand, they both hug me. They _have_ been like family. Carlisle wants me to carefully consider Mr. Masen's offer and I nod, knowing I probably should. Then he asks if I'll tell Jess to come in. From the look on her face when she sees the tears in my eyes, I think she's guessed at what's coming.

It's overwhelming coming back to my desk. I just stand there and cry. Before I know it, I'm surrounded by Mr. Masen's warm embrace. It feels so good, I return it, clinging to him.

"It's okay. Let it out."

I don't want to ever let go, looking up into a smile that warms me inside, just as his chest and arms are taking care of my exterior, and I smile back. With his thumb, he wipes away a tear and stares at my lips. For a moment, I swear it feels like he wants to kiss me. With a nervous giggle, I draw his attention to the wet patch on his shirt and we break apart.

 _ **How can I not take a point off for this kindness? Total dick points: 9**_

"Mr. Masen?" Jess calls out. "Carlisle would like to see you."

Mr. Masen winks as he leaves, and she comes over. There are no tears from this girl. She's obviously stronger than I am.

"I'm not worried," she says. "I can work for my uncle. What are you going to do?"

Shaking my head, I shrug. "Look for something else I suppose. I think I'm still in shock."

I pack up while Jess goes downstairs to say goodbye. Angela is upset but not like Leah. With a crushing hug, Leah apologizes, saying she had no idea this would happen, making me cry again.

Cleaning up the last of my emails, I'm ready to leave as Mr. Masen emerges. "I'll drive you," he insists. I don't really want to go home alone on the train and his offer of a drink has some appeal now.

I've looked at his charcoal Audi A3 many times and wondered what it would be like to drive. Inside it's stylish and luxurious, full of hi-tech features that make me embarrassed I'm still driving my old Nissan hatchback. When the rush of acceleration forces me back in the seat, I can imagine owning a car like this.

We drive northwest of the city, where he approaches an opening garage door. He's already booked an Uber that arrives as we're getting out, and I look up, wondering which apartment is his. This whole area is expensive, out of our price range when Rose and I were looking for somewhere to rent. It reminds me that she'll be gone soon and I've done nothing about finding a new roommate.

The bar _is_ fantastic and busy. I stare at the wall behind the bartender, filled with a collection of photos and lewdly illustrated coasters. A beaten up sun visor hangs on a hook with a string of pearls and some sort of sporting pennant. Nearby, there's an old brick of a phone. I'm startled by what looks like a real snake, relieved to find it's only a cleverly designed whip.

Over drinks and lunch, I learn a lot about Edward Masen. He's younger than I thought at only twenty-eight, and it makes me view him in a different light. He grew up in Lakewood, forty miles south of here, with a father who was a public defender. The family moved to Queen Anne when he took a job as a private defense attorney and he's been a partner at the same firm for ten years.

They're obviously a comfortable, happy family and I'm admiring him when he describes his slightly eccentric mother, only just realizing how good looking he is. He's devoted to his sister, revealing she's played the role of his assistant until now.

"You work with your sister?" I ask, surprised.

"Yes, and it's a lot more fun when the two of us know each other well."

I can't help shaking my head at his grin. "You really think it's fun?"

"Well, it's still hard and intense work, but I love it. Alice will tell you on Friday night."

"Why are you offering me her job?"

"Firstly, Alice is having a baby and I've been asked to do a report on a company in Chicago. Have you been there?"

"Only once, on vacation."

"I went to college in Chicago. I'm looking forward to going back."

"And... secondly?"

He leans forward in his chair, letting his eyes roam over me. "I like the dynamic between us, Bella. It works very well." I narrow my stare, remembering the times I wanted to kill him.

"You mean you being a dick, and me being your slave?"

"No one said you had to be subservient."

"How would I know I had a choice?"

"I don't know. Experience? Self assurance? You were actually anticipating me every step of the way."

"I wanted the job for myself."

"It's a lot of responsibility leading a sales team and, personally, I thought you were too young. Anyway, you're not a great salesperson."

"And you are?" I remember the day he stole my commission.

He laughs. "Hardly."

 _Does he even know what I'm talking about?_ "You took over my sale and closed it! How much was it? Ten grand? Twelve?"

He shakes his head slowly. "I handed them to Leah once they finished in the workshop. She closed the sale, not me. If you were angry, you should have enlightened me."

 _ **I do like his honesty, and he didn't really take my commission. Total dick points: 8**_

"I thought Carlisle or Emmett would find out about it."

"Is that when you decided to provoke me?"

"I already said you were wrong about that."

"The reason I said something initially was the comments I heard in the workshop. Your slacks didn't leave much to the imagination and the men were speculating on what kind of underwear you wore. I thought a nice dress and heels would lift your profile, and by the way, I only ever mentioned mascara. I never said anything about red lipstick. I think you _were_ trying to tempt me."

 _ **Oh really, Mr. Masen? You just scored yourself another point for arrogance. Total dick points: 9**_

God, I need another drink for this argument, but when I stand, I'm unsteady, aware I've already had enough. He's right there, pulling me into his lap.

"How about I try to tempt you?"

"No thanks," I answer, pushing on him.

"I'll give you a thousand dollars if you'll kiss me."

"What?" I ask, trying to squirm away.

"Two thousand if you make it _memorable_."

 _ **For use of that word again, he gets a bonus point. Total dick points: 10**_

"Let me go. You're insane."

"Three." People are staring now. A woman is sending me a grin while nodding her head. "Let's find out if it's as good as I've imagined."

Three thousand dollars _is_ a lot of money for a kiss. It would give me another month of security while finding a new job. Staring at his lips, I can't believe I'm actually considering this, so I get out of his clutches, grabbing my bag, determined to leave him here.

"No you don't." He takes my arm and steers me toward the bartender.

"I'm going home!"

"And _I'm_ paying the bill first. I'll take you home."

"I don't want you to." I give him a fifty, not sure it will cover my tab.

"Please," he begs, exasperated, refusing my money and handing his card to the bartender. "I'll book you an Uber."

"I can do that myself," I retort, bringing up the app on my phone. Still holding my arm, he escorts me outside where we wait for my car.

When the blue sedan pulls up, the driver lowers the window. "Swan?" Edward steps forward and opens the back door. When I get in, he leans down and says, "Four." He's smirking now, enjoying himself, and I soften, entertained by the fact that he doesn't seem serious after all.

"No," I answer, holding back a grin until he closes the door and we drive off.

* * *

Thinking it's over, I'm stunned when Rose wakes me after accepting a delivery at our door. It's a dozen red roses with a balloon in the shape of a five.

"These are for you, but there's no card. Is it a mistake?" It does look like a mistake,

more like they belong to some couple celebrating their five-year anniversary, but it's obvious to me who they are from. "Should we call the florist?"

 _ **Yeah, okay. I'm flattered enough to take one off. Total dick points: 9**_

I'm hurt she immediately thinks they can't be for me, but I suppose my love life has been non-existent for a while. "If I tell you something, do you promise not to tell Emmett?"

"Why? What is it? Are they from someone at work?"

God, they smell beautiful. "They're from Edward Masen. He's been joking around, offering me money to kiss him. Yesterday, he was up to four thousand dollars. I think this means he's increased his offer to five."

"So he's still playing with you," she says, nodding. "I thought it was funny when he was here the other night… but red roses, Bella. You know what they mean."

 _I_ do _know what they mean, and now I'm questioning his intentions. Was he serious when he was hovering over me in the chair in his office? Do I want to know if that bulge is real? He had witnessed how much it held my interest._

 _Then there's the job offer. He seems awfully sure I am going to work for him. If it's true that it works best with someone close, does he intend to get to know me before we start? In a backhanded way, he has complimented me, more to Carlisle than to me directly. Was I really the slave driver while he struggled to keep up with me? It didn't seem that way at the time._

 _What is my future if I choose to forget how I lost my first job? He was right on the mark in saying I'm a lousy salesperson. For all the time I spent in that showroom, my commissions were scarce. I am good at analyzing, though. I can write a decent report, put together ideas for a campaign, source product and potential distributors, but he's correct in saying I don't have the experience to be a real sales manager. I'm not even sure I know what the job fully entails._

As these thoughts race through my mind, I know who can help me make a decision. I won't contact Mr. Masen in the meantime, but I'll make sure I'm there at dinner to meet his pregnant sister.

* * *

On Friday morning, more flowers arrive. He's sent another dozen red roses, this time with an envelope that contains a check for ten thousand dollars and a note that reads "My final offer." I was dreaming about him last night, succumbing to his advances in the office. The dream was so hot, I woke up horny and nervous about seeing him again.

Having the check in my hand makes this real and I consider calling him to ask him to explain his behavior. What stops me is the fact that he hasn't declared what he expects for the extra thousands, and I suspect it's now more than just a kiss.

I decide not to respond and open up a possible invitation. I'll be less intimidated at the restaurant where there's safety in numbers. When he texts and asks if he can pick me up, I reply that I'm coming with Emmett and Rose.

I was wrong thinking I wouldn't feel intimidated. Mr. Masen's eyes never leave me as he makes introductions. I can feel the sexuality radiating off him in pair of jeans that look like he's had them tailor-made. The broad shoulders and the shirt tucked in only add to the lure of his package, and I see him smirk as I avert my eyes.

Alice Whitlock is nothing like I imagined. When he said she was having a baby, I didn't realize it was going to happen so soon. The black dress she wears is stretched to its limit and she doesn't really settle until her adorable husband, Jasper, gets her a bread roll. She's talkative, outspoken and totally charming.

She is protective of her role and struggling to give it up, but I understand when she says she can't go away for eight weeks and leave her baby. "That was never the deal," she says. "You're single. You can travel." She links her arm with mine as they lead us to the table. "I'm so impressed you two got the job done in three weeks. Edward calls you his slave driver."

I glance at him. "I just did what he instructed me to do."

"Your main job is to suss out the culture, find the troublemakers, shut down any gossip about what Edward's up to. The staff must pull together if the restructure is going to succeed. If they go for each other's throats, the company might not be worth saving. It's also important to make them feel sorry for you. People will help if they think you're working for an ogre."

An image of Mr. Masen with skin as green as his amused eyes jumps into my head. "You mean like Shrek?"

Alice laughs, bumping her brother's shoulder. "Yeah, he does plays that role well. It's too good seeing the staff react to him when I know he's not really like that."

"Actually, a couple of times I did question whether he was serious. I didn't believe anyone could be such a dick." I glance at Mr. Masen to see him enjoying this immensely.

" _I_ even called him a dick," Rose adds with a chuckle.

"You didn't know either?" Alice asks her.

Emmett responds. "They're best friends. I didn't think it was fair on Rose," he says, putting his arm around her.

Mr. Masen asks how everything is going at Cullen's and Emmett holds up two thumbs. "The cameras are coming in next week."

I'm sad I won't see the transformation. It's a downside to the process, having to

back away before the exciting stuff happens.

Over the meal, Mr. Masen and Alice answer our questions on how their business works, and it's cute when they finish each other's sentences. I don't get a sense that he's the stronger partner in the team because she has a lot to say and is candid about the fact that she is going to miss working with him.

He only takes on smaller companies employing less than fifty staff, and he doesn't advertise, picking up clients by referral. A flat fee covers the company survey and report, as well as quarterly follow up meetings where he tracks their progress and offers further advice. He likes to stay in touch since he receives a percentage of their increased profits for two years.

He's currently building a range of companies he knows he can recommend that fill the gaps in these smaller businesses who struggle with expertise. They give him a commission for the referral. While I'm not bold enough to ask what he earns, the apartment, the car, and the clothes suggest he's doing pretty well.

"Have you been paid yet?" Alice asks.

"Uh…" I'm not sure if she's referring to my severance pay.

She glares at her brother. "You said you want her to work with you; that she handed you all the information you needed in record time."

"Thank you, Alice." He responds, as if he's trying to shut her up.

"Bella, your cut of the deal is…

Cutting her off, he says, "I've already given her the check, Alice."

"Oh, okay. Sorry, Edward."

We lock eyes and I shake my head while Alice goes on uninterrupted. "We're paid as normal employees as well. We can't just go in and work for free without someone asking questions. Then they lay us off. What we get for the report is on top. The money makes up for the gaps between jobs."

I glance at Alice a couple of times so she knows I'm listening but I'm having difficulty dragging my eyes from her brother. He's been using _my_ ten thousand dollars to tempt me into kissing him!

 _ **That's a two pointer. Total dick points: 11**_

A couple of different scenarios play out in my head. Taking out my frustrations by punching his chest repeatedly is one. The other deals with a different kind of frustration locked in a dream from last night.

When the two couples at our table start talking about due dates and honeymoon

plans, I say quietly, "Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"

He shrugs and replies, "Not really. You can't blame a guy for trying." Leaning forward, he asks, "So, did you like the flowers?"

"I loved them," I answer truthfully, embarrassed I never thanked him. "No one has ever sent me flowers like that before."

I feel his foot alongside mine. "Come back to my place, Bella."

"Mr. Masen, I'm…"

"It's Edward. Please call me Edward."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Edward, if we're going to be working together."

"So you _will_ come and work with me?"

"Maybe. I'm considering it."

His smile is so dazzling and seductive, I have to look down before I blush.

 _ **Oh boy... Total dick points: 10**_

Edward and Alice entertain us with stories from some of their previous jobs. They modify their characters depending on whether they are located amongst other staff or isolated away. They've met some funny people and just as many assholes who they describe between fits of laughter.

Every time they laugh, the idea of the job grows on me. It does sound like they have a lot of fun.

Edward doesn't hide his disappointment when I say it's easier if I go home with Rose and Emmett, and I leave, feeling disappointed myself. Seeing his apartment does interest me and I'm finding he's quite different from the persona he portrays in the office.

It's just the way he looks at me that's making me nervous.

Even though the reason he gave me the ten thousand dollars is now out in the open, I still feel the sexual tension every time our eyes meet. Scenes from my erotic dream keep invading my thoughts.

 _Why am I scared? I don't have hang-ups about my body, or sex in general for that matter, and I'm not a virgin. You just fool around until you're both ready, and then you do it, don't you? If you're lucky, he cares enough to make you cum first, because the only time I ever got close with Mike inside me was after he'd already finished and was still half-erect. I never understood the mechanics of how it was different, and he couldn't keep it up for very long, so I didn't get my orgasm. In fact, it turned him off,_

 _knowing his deflated self did a better job than when he was fully pumped up, and he wouldn't try it again. It may have been a while since the last time, but surely it can't be that different when the man is well endowed. It's supposed to be a good thing. Jess treated the bulge like some sort of prize, so maybe I should have asked her why._

I decide to find out for myself.

Grabbing my laptop, I type into Google, "What is it like to have sex with a man with a big penis?" With nearly five million results, I start browsing.

I have to chuckle at a comment from a man who writes, "You can wear gym clothes and drive a Saturn for life. Who cares, right? You have a big dick." Men talk a lot about the hassle of finding a condom that will stay on. They are definitely not happy about getting less anal and deep throating. They've given up on the idea of a quick bang. One says women can be suspicious of a big penis, assuming the guy is a manwhore. Some men find it intimidating the first time they reveal their manhood, fearing their partner's reaction. Girls will use a big dick as an excuse to get out of morning sex, saying they're too sore.

From the woman's point of view, maximum foreplay is crucial, and so is lube. Reading a comment about performing oral on a huge cock being more sexy is annoying when it really doesn't give me the specifics I'm after. Some women say there's nothing like the feeling of being filled up, that a big penis can stimulate places previously unknown. Others talk about pain, anxiety and stress, holding the base to prevent deep penetration, gagging and locked jaws, torn vaginas, and bruised cervixes.

I slam the laptop shut after seeing an image of a woman holding a large Subway to her open mouth. It's too much to imagine a dick that big, and now I have to try to calm a racing heart so I can sleep. This research was not one of my better ideas.

* * *

Rose and I spend Saturday at the hotel where they are holding their wedding reception. It's not going to be a huge wedding, with less than a hundred expected, and Rose wants to keep it as simple as possible. Once we sample a selection of dishes, we easily narrow it down to two and decide on the table decorations. We're taking in the view of the city, trying their different types of wedding cake, when Edward turns up uninvited.

"Afternoon," he announces with a smile, and we both just look at him. Without a will of my own, my eyes drop to the bulge. He sits down next to me and picks up a fork. "I'm very partial to cake. Can I help you with that?"

Rose hands him a plate and says, "Help yourself."

"How did you know where we were?" I ask.

"Emmett told me," he answers, serving himself a selection from our platter of cake.

It's so matter-of-fact, I don't even ask for an explanation. "Oh hell, what is this one?"

"That's the lemon. It's in my top two at the moment." Rose replies, wiping her mouth with a napkin and giggling. "We're going to get into such a mess."

Edward snorts. "So Bella's the reason you two met?"

"It was actually Jacob Black," Rose answers and Edward looks at me with his eyebrows raised.

"Mr. Black from the workshop?" he asks, sticking a piece of the chocolate cake in his mouth.

I have to retell the damn story every time someone asks Rose how she met Emmett. "He kept asking me to go on a date and I only agreed so he would stop. I begged Emmett to help me out by going on a double date with my roommate. He agreed, she agreed, and the rest is history."

Rose adds, "God, I took one look at him and said, 'That's my man.' Apparently he felt the same way about me."

"And Mr. Black?" Edward asks.

She laughs. "Bella was so obnoxious, he never asked her out again."

"Lucky for me, then," Edward responds, smirking.

"Oh, that's Em." Rose says, picking up her ringing phone. "Uh… yeah, we're nearly done. Are we done? He'll be here in ten minutes."

"Bella can come with me," Edward states. When I stare at him he says, "I have something to show you."

"Sure, babe. See you downstairs in ten. Love you!" She hangs up and announces, "I think I've decided on the lemon."

"I agree," I reply. "It's not too sickly sweet."

"I could eat a lot of this cake," he says, taking another piece.

"Do you... want to come to the wedding?" Rose asks.

"I'd love to. When is it?"

"Three weeks from today."

"Uh…" He looks like he's working something out. "Yeah, Chicago starts the week after. Perfect." Then he hits us both with that heart-stopping smile.

So, he _has_ accepted the job in Chicago, living in the Windy City for two months. I could get to know the place in that time and I cannot deny it's tempting. The fact that he's here shows he's going to keep up the pressure until he gets an answer, and, actually, every time I see him, I like him a little more.

Edward Masen is single, probably wealthy, smart, and successful. He's generous and an absolute delight in the company of his sister who obviously adores him. My best friend has just invited him to her wedding, so what is my problem? I wish I hadn't seen the negative comments on the internet about big dicks. The idea of pain and possible injury are really the only things holding me back now.

Rose picks up her handbag and phone. "Okay, Em will be downstairs soon. Will you drop her back home, Edward?"

"Of course," he answers.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"My place."

"The thing you want to show me is at your place?"

"Yes, it is."

This is my last chance to flee with Rose. I look at Edward, expecting to see a smirk, but find he's quite serious. Nevertheless, he is a good actor. He plays a part for a living. With slight reservations, I choose to give him the benefit of the doubt.

By the time we reach his apartment block, I'm in love with his car. He's going to drive it to Chicago and I can think of nothing better than joining him. The garage door opens as we approach. Private stairs lead to a door he unlocks and holds open for me, and we enter into a short corridor where he drops his keys in a bowl on a side table. It looks like there are bedrooms one way and the kitchen the other.

I follow him to the living areas, hardly noticing anything except the view. We're facing south with the Needle directly in front and glimpses of the Sound to the right. The place smells so fresh, I ask impudently, "Do you have a cleaner?"

"She comes on Fridays."

"Good for you," I mutter to myself, looking around. Then I see it, the reason for the familiar smell. The dining suite is so gorgeous, I gasp. "Carlisle made this?"

He nods. "My payment for the job." Running my hands over the top, I'm fascinated by the inlay work they've done. "It's a prototype, something new for the custom business. They only delivered it yesterday."

"It's incredible, but aren't you worried about using it? What if someone spills something on that grain?"

"Oh, but I want to use it. There are many ways to use a table like this." He takes a step toward me with hungry eyes.

"What do you mean?" I ask, backing away.

"We both know I didn't ask you here just to show you my new table. I've given you two dozen red roses."

Crunch time. My heart is pounding and I have to clear my throat to speak.

"Edward, I… I like you… a lot. I do want to take the job but I'm nervous about starting a relationship with you."

"Why?" he asks with a frown.

I can't blurt out that I'm scared of his big dick, so I have to come up with something else quickly.

"Well… How do we work together and be a couple? What happens if we're fighting?"

"I think it would make the whole thing more realistic, don't you? As you said, I'm a dick and you're my slave. We can fight in public."

"What if I can't keep my hands off you?"

 _Oh dear. That one came out of left field._

His face lights up, surprised. "Then we wait until everyone leaves. I've thought about fucking you in my office… many times."

 _He really shouldn't have said that._

I grab a chunk of his hair and pull his lips to mine. Moaning, all thoughts of pain and fear evaporate when I taste the flavor of lemon wedding cake on his tongue. He picks me up and I wrap my legs around him as he walks us to his couch. When he sits down, I'm straddling him, lost in a frenzy of wild kisses.

He sucks on my neck, softly biting me, and it's too good—even better than the dream.

"You like that?" he asks, licking my earlobe.

"Oh, yeah."

In no time, my shirt is on the couch, followed quickly by the bra. He watches himself use just the right amount of pressure, just the right amount of nipple attention. My fingers get lost in his hair and I moan, grinding down wantonly.

"Hang on," he commands, lifting me slightly. "I have to…" He releases the button of

his jeans. "Okay, that's better."

I glance down to the sight of his dick poking out of his underwear, and it looks like it's big. Really big. Sucking in a breath, I know I must face this now if we're going ahead.

"Edward, is this going to hurt? Are you going to injure me?"

"Aren't we going to fuck?" He looks very confused.

I'm not sure we're on the same page. "I… I thought so."

"Then I'm not going to hurt you. I want to make love to you. I adore you."

 _ **Man, what an answer. Total dick points: 9**_

"But you're so big."

"You'll stretch my darling, I promise. We'll take it slow." He goes back to my neck.

 _God, if he's going to keep doing that, I'll be putty in his hands._

When I moan again, he holds my face and smiles. "I really do promise."

 _ **Maybe another half a point off. Total dick points: 8.5**_

Touching his face, I think I think I might adore him, too. "I've been fantasizing about this for a while."

After one of his heart-stopping smiles, he replies, "That makes two of us. Let's go to the bedroom."

"Okay." I lift up slightly but he pulls me back down.

"Maybe another kiss first."

It takes a while for us to finally leave the couch and I'm dizzy, holding his hand as we walk up the hallway.

"Your hair is such a mess," I say with a giggle.

"Hopefully, it's gonna get messier."

Edward's bedroom is huge with a king bed and the same view of the Needle. Pressing a remote, the blinds come down, bathing the room a very sexy mood. He kicks off his shoes and pulls down his jeans and underwear in one go. He's still wearing his shirt so I've yet to see the full extent of what I'm up against.

Honestly, while we've both been passionate, he's been tender with me, never

squeezing or sucking too hard, so I do trust he won't harm me. I have no problem getting naked with him now, but I _am_ dying to see what the big deal is. He sits on the bed and takes off his socks, watching me undo my jeans.

"Are you teasing me?" I ask when he starts slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt from the top.

With a smirk he answers, "I'm watching you get naked. It's distracting."

"Maybe I should help you." I walk over and finish the job, opening the shirt and marveling at what's in front of me. I don't know what I thought I would find, but I did not expect this. His dick is neither too long nor too fat. It's like a regular penis, just scaled up several sizes. Before I know it, I'm touching it, completely fascinated.

"Are you teasing _me_ now, Bella?"

"Sorry. I guess _I_ got distracted." I'm laughing as I take off my sandals while he removes his shirt. Then he leans back on his hands as I slide my jeans down. He has a fantastic body, quite ripped really, and it's incredibly sexy seeing his dick jump when I'm finally naked. "It's moving on its own, Edward. What are you thinking right now?"

I return to his lap and his eyes follow his hands as they travel over my breasts and down to my hips. Sliding his fingers between my legs, he checks to see the effect he's had on me, circling my clit while his eyes close briefly. "I'm thinking that I've hit the fucking jackpot. You are so perfect."

 _ **Um... dick points... who cares anymore.**_

He reads me beautifully, using his tongue on my nipples while working my clit. It's so good, I'm disappointed when I cum, but I'm ready for the main event, and I kiss him with everything I have. He rolls us over and moans, grinding against me. Now I know there is nothing monstrous about his monster, I want him inside me, but I could take what he's currently doing for the rest of the afternoon.

Suddenly he slows down and then stops. "I want to fuck you. Do you trust me not to hurt you?"

"Yes," I pant, half out of my head. I don't even care if it does hurt at this point.

"Okay," he says, kissing me once more before getting up. From a drawer in his closet, he takes out a condom and rips it open.

"I want to do it," I call out and sit up, surprised at my boldness.

"You do?"

"Yeah." I hold my hand out. "Lie down and let me try."

He lays down and gets himself comfortable. "It's probably wise for you to be on top, at least to begin with."

I grab hold of his dick, smiling at how big it is in my hand. "Maybe I should inspect what I'm getting."

"Please… be my guest."

"Are you cut?"

"No. It just pulls right back when I'm stiff."

"Interesting," I respond, having to fight to pull it up to a right angle. "It has a mind of its own, doesn't it?"

"You are so entertaining, Miss Swan."

"Am I?" I lean down and kiss it. I take the head into my mouth and watch his reaction. It's true what that woman wrote. It _is_ sexy going down on a big dick. Maybe it's because of the way the hunky man attached to this particular big dick is watching me do it. I'm not going to kid myself that I could get much of this monster into my mouth, but I can give him plenty of pleasure with my hand and my tongue. "You like?"

He groans. "Put the condom on now, Bella, or I'm going to have to fuck you without it."

After a last lick, I do as I'm told, smirking at how far I have to roll it down, and even then, it doesn't go all the way.

"Does it ever come off?"

"No. I've found my brand and I stick to it. Are you going to get on? I've been as hard as a rock for a while now."

I'm giggling at the moment I imagined I'd be terrified. It is, after all, just a big dick. He holds it up for me as I lower myself down, but it only goes in a little way before there's a hindrance.

"Slowly," he recommends while I begin to doubt I can accommodate him. "Keep doing that until you stretch."

It takes effort and restraint to get him even halfway in and then something gives or we change angle slightly or he pushes up at the same time I push down. Edward groans when I start to move freely.

"Christ, that feels good. Are you okay?" he asks and I respond with a hum. It feels incredible, filled up like this. I lean my hands on his chest, feeling quite proud of myself as I get into a rhythm without any pain at all. It's certainly snug, but still very

slippery. "So gorgeous," he says, sitting up, kissing my neck while squeezing both breasts, and with every downward stroke, I feel something undeniably building inside—the complete opposite of pain.

"Oh, God!" I call out when I can no longer ignore it. "What's happening?"

 _ **These sensations cancel out every point he ever earned because his dick makes him a perfect ten.**_

"I believe it's called an orgasm. Don't stop!"

I couldn't stop if my life depended on it. I have to go faster and faster.

"Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, Goddddddddddddd!"

* * *

I'm smiling at a selfie of Rose and Emmett, sipping cocktails at their honeymoon resort, when another text arrives. She says she loves the pics I sent of our new apartment.

"Miss Swan. Can you come in here, please?"

I roll my eyes at Tanya, who works at the desk across from mine, and mumble loudly enough for her to hear. "It's Friday afternoon. Does he never let up?"

We've finally come to the end of our first week in Chicago and it's taken this long to step into our characters fully after a month filled with romance and sex. After we met with the owners, we decided to go with the same dynamic we had at Cullen's and, so far, it seems to be working.

This _is_ fun when you know it's all staged, coming home and telling each other what happened during the day. Edward loves the fact that the staff here already can't stand him.

"You poor thing, Bella. I don't know how you can work for him."

"Hopefully, the owners will realize and get rid of him."

"Can I help you with anything?"

"Could you, Tanya?"

"Miss Swan!"

"I'm coming, Mr. Masen!"

"Christ, he's relentless," she states.

"I might need your help next week," I say, grabbing my phone. Tanya really knows her way around this computer system.

"Sure thing. Anything I can do. That man is such a dick."

Narrowing my eyes, I take a deep breath, outwardly preparing myself for battle.

"Yeah. The biggest dick ever."

 _And I'm in love with that dick... and the man attached to it._


End file.
